


Sleep Solves Everything

by kettish



Series: A Bold New World [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo has a few desires that Thorin and Dwalin haven't been allowed to address, and Thorin pushes Bilbo into finally allowing giving them something to start with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Solves Everything

It was a whispered conversation, one of the many they shared in the warmth and safety of the fireside in their rooms, seated on the thick furs before the hearth, tones low and intimate. It was through a similar conversation that Thorin had once admitted to his obscene (to his people, at least) desire to be dominated fully, and another in which they’d agreed to finally allow Dwalin into that dynamic as well. Now Thorin and Bilbo relaxed together as Bilbo stroked Thorin’s hair and massaged his scalp and they spoke.

“We should try something more comfortable next time,” Bilbo murmured, eyes flicking once towards the bruises on Thorin’s wrists. Thorin hummed agreeably, turning slightly to press his cheek into Bilbo’s soft stomach.

“I enjoyed it regardless, my love,” Thorin said, “but today I was mildly sore. Perhaps we can keep the metal cuffs for more decorative uses, and something softer for when I need to pull.” A soft smile pulled at Bilbo’s lips as he gazed down fondly at his dwarf.

“Consider it done,” he assured. Thorin turned his face away from Bilbo’s stomach to look up at Bilbo, suddenly a bit sharp and serious, and Bilbo’s eyebrows moved up politely.

“What about you, ghivashel,” Thorin asked. “Many things we have done for Dwalin and I, but so far we have not discussed anything particular that we might do for you alone. Surely there is something.”

Bilbo chuckled, patting Thorin amiably. “Tosh. I’m well satisfied as I am, darling. Besides, it is my job to take care of you two in this.” Thorin scowled suddenly, sitting up, peaceful atmosphere disrupted.

“You expect us to trust you with our fears, our desires,” he said lowly, and Bilbo saw his hands clench against the fur. “But you will not do the same for us. You will not trust neither Dwalin nor I with what you need, so that we may also see you happy and fulfilled.” 

“That’s not-I didn’t mean that,” the hobbit sputtered, eyes wide and obviously taken aback. “I just-I never had a partner interested in many of the things I wanted, and I suppose I assumed neither of you would be, either.” Thorin seemed to relax at the omission and the understanding that it had been mere miscommunication at fault, and brought his forehead to rest gently against Bilbo’s, dark hair touching brown-red-blond. (It was an amalgamation, just as Bilbo was, Thorin had often thought-dwarrow, and hobbit, dragon-riddler and handkerchiefs and something entirely unique.)

“Start with something small,” Thorin suggested softly. “The easiest thing to admit. It will help.” Bilbo recalled Thorin asking for such things leading up to their first real session as Lord and slave-pet-servant (they have yet to hit upon a role Thorin feels fit perfectly). His mouth twisted as he thinks, pulls to one side and another as he wrinkled his nose. 

“There we are,” Thorin murmured as Bilbo hit upon something, and it was unwavering blue eyes that met Bilbo’s when he looked over.

“I have often thought,” Bilbo said softly, so softly that Thorin leaned in to hear better, “that it would be-exciting, I suppose-to, ah.” He stalled out. Thorin waited patiently; Bilbo has found his courage many times before, and this time would be no different. Bilbo drew a deep breath and continued.

“It would be exciting, to touch someone as they slept,” he rushed through, and then swallowed.

After a moment to process, Thorin asked, “What would you do?”

“I’d--,” Bilbo started, and then turned a measuring look at Thorin. Thorin tried to keep his expression neutral, eyebrows up, interested and accepting. Bilbo swallowed again, easier this time, and when he spoke again his voice was a little deeper and huskier.

“I’d wait until you were very deeply asleep,” he began, and Thorin laid back down into his lap so that he could stroke his hair while he spoke. “And once I was sure, entirely certain, I would start to touch you very gently. Not too gently, so I don’t wake you, but also not too firmly. Just as much as I could dare.

“You’d have worn nothing to bed, of course,” he continued, “except maybe a nightshirt, which could be pulled up, or a very thin pair of smallclothes. Preferably nothing, but it wouldn’t matter much. Maybe I would wait until you were hard from a dream, or maybe I would carefully press and touch until you were stiff. And I’d watch, and see the little signs of your pleasure, that you just can’t help because it feels so good and you’re asleep.”

Thorin could feel Bilbo’s dick through his trousers now, as it was starting to be very interested in the picture Bilbo was painting, and Thorin’s was a match for it in his own pants. He pressed subtly against it as he listened.

“When you were fully erect, I’d keep touching,” Bilbo said, his breathing a little fast, “and maybe reach into your smalls carefully, so carefully, so you’d stay asleep. Or pull up your nightshirt. If I could I’d try and suck you in your sleep, and listen to your noises and watch your muscles jump, or maybe even finger you, though I think that’d wake you fairly quick. And you might moan a little, or move, and eventually you’d spill, and I’d just-I’d have to do the same.” He groaned, overcome, and leaned down to kiss Thorin deeply. Thorin had just begun mouthing at Bilbo’s dick through his trousers and was extremely amenable to a quick round before bed, and they both shucked their pants down quickly to tug each other off as Thorin stretched over Bilbo, nibbling and kissing and rubbing his whiskered cheeks against Bilbo’s skin.

Bilbo came quickly, wound up from the scenario he’d described, and Thorin came not too soon afterwards with the application of his hobbit’s mouth. Afterwards they rested, content with the sharing both physical and emotional, and it was into a lax, happy hobbit’s ear that Thorin rumbled his enthusiastic and full consent for such an event.

 

____________

More times than not, Bilbo would return to their rooms before Thorin. Thorin had an exasperating tendency to need to finish the day’s appointed tasks, even when the one who did the appointing (Balin) told him that a task could be put off until the next day. It was a trait that Bilbo grudgingly respected and despaired of; he understood and appreciated that Thorin took his role as monarch seriously, but goodness, if it was nine in the evening and Bilbo was waiting for him with dinner, couldn’t Thorin just go ahead and put his burden down for the day already?

In a strange turn of events, that particular day Thorin had been left with only a half an afternoon’s worth of work. Bilbo made a mental note to send some cinnamon-sugar popovers to Balin as a thank-you, as it was one of the old dwarf’s favorite snacks. Thorin had seemed a bit lost, actually, when court had closed for lunch, and had informed Bilbo he planned to spend the time off at home.

“Probably napped all afternoon and had a wank,” Bilbo laughed to himself as he finished up sowing the last of the carrot seeds. It was finally warm enough to plant the main body of his garden, and he’d been at it all day. Finally, he’d have greens! Fresh crunchy lettuce, sweet crisp carrots, sugar snap peas and zucchini and maybe even corn if it’d get warm enough. His tomatoes stayed in the glassed-in little stand that they’d built together where they’d be protected from the still-cool overnight temperatures, and as he covered the newly-planted earth with a dropcloth, Bilbo grinned in satisfaction.

“Silly dwarf thinks I’m not happy,” he muttered, “but there’s warm earth and hearth and hearts, and what else has any hobbit ever needed?” 

When has any hobbit ever had such opportunity, though, a deeply buried part of his mind sloughed off dirt and rose up to ask. Bilbo shook himself once, feeling very much like a dog when his curls and dirt went flying, and firmly ignored himself.

 

It was a bit late when he returned finally, having stopped by the kitchens to pick up a bite for supper. He stepped past the royal guards with a familiar nod--good lads, he’d have to bring them some tea before they were off in the morning--and down the hallway where the royal apartments were built into the stone. The door opened easily and he sighed in relief as he came home, shedding his coat at the door to hang in the hall and brushing his feet off carefully with the soft brush by the entrance to avoid tracking in garden and city dirt. Dwalin’s clodstompers weren’t sitting by the mat, and Bilbo wished his detail rounding up wargs on the south side of the mountain was already done so he could be home.

The fire had burned low in his absence, and Bilbo couldn’t fault Thorin for heading to bed already. Poor dwarf barely got enough sleep as it was and definitely didn’t get enough free time. He made his way quietly into the kitchen, nibbled some slices of bread with butter and jam to fill in the cracks a tad, and then made his daily ablutions in the restroom. A hot bath was just the ticket after a long day and Bilbo let out a gusty sigh as he slipped into the water.

Of all the things in Erebor that impress me, I have to say the plumbing is in at least the top three, he thought as his muscles became a gelatinous mess of flesh. Honestly. It takes a moment’s notice to fill a hot tub, and it does it quietly. What more could a hobbit ask for!

There again came the voice, rising from the shadows in the back of his mind. You aren’t just any hobbit, though, are you. It was a comment and not a question, and Bilbo huffed. You are a Baggins and a Took, and both dwarf-- and elf--friend, and lover to both the king and his captain of the guard. 

True enough, he acknowledged. But a plant is a plant, and a hobbit is a hobbit, and even though Thorin’s given his permission, I don’t need to do the things we discussed to be happy.

But a stalk of corn is not the same as a rose bush, nor even one rose the same as another rose, the voice said, apparently finished, and the rest of Bilbo’s bath was spent in relative peace and mental quiet...though to be fair, the quiet was mostly because he was in a little shock.

Alright, he decided. OK. Right. It was true he’d run off with the Company, and that wasn’t exactly hobbitish. And goodness, he’d basically orchestrated an exceedingly filthy threesome on a weekly basis (at minimum!) for a few months now, to the satisfaction of everyone involved. Alright. Maybe he had wants and needs that weren’t exactly...normal. Maybe Thorin and Dwalin deserved the chance to return his care as Thorin had said. 

And it was damned cowardly of him to refuse to reach out and trust them after all they’d trusted him with.

He entered the bedroom and like temptation embodied Thorin laid on his side sleeping, back bare and warm in the tones from the candlelight. Bilbo licked his lips as he watched the rise and fall of his breath, the dusting of hair all over his body, the muscle and slight pudge that had begun to accumulate over his hip and stomach. Without thinking he slipped his robe down and silently slid it over the back of a chair, and then went to the hearth and slid a few logs onto it to warm the room.

That done he wiped his hands with a handkerchief he kept on the bedstand and then slid into bed behind Thorin. Daring, he scooted as far against Thorin as he could and looped an arm over his waist to brush against his groin in a move that could have been explained away as an accident should Thorin wake suddenly.

Thorin didn’t move, but Bilbo’s cock did. So he repeated the gesture, making certain he was in the right spot-Thorin’s smalls were thin enough and, frankly, his cock big enough, that it wasn’t difficult to discern. Bilbo slipped his free hand down into his own pants, massaging them both gently as his breath grew ragged. This. This was what he’d asked for, and Thorin had given him permission, and oh sweet green fields Thorin sighed.

Just a tiny sound, a little thing, and somehow Bilbo was so, so hard now. He couldn’t just jerk himself off quick, though-it’d wake Thorin, for one, and that’d be such a waste of an opportunity. He left off tugging on himself to just press his palm against himself as he moved his nose to Thorin’s skin and inhaled.

Thorin’s skin was sleep-warm and clean scented; he was pliant and impossibly trusting, and Bilbo couldn’t help but keep breathing him deeply in as he continued touching him, feeling his cock begin to swell and his breathing give a tiny hitch every few minutes. The whole affair was going impossibly slowly, and yet Bilbo had no concept of time beyond the counts between Thorin’s breaths and heartbeats and the insistence of his own arousal. Thorin’s skin was satin where it was always covered with his clothing, and pleasant like only old inexpensive bed linens could be where it was exposed. Bilbo could only continue to knead at him, feel his cock get harder and harder, and thought he’d surely burst wide open before the dwarf awoke.

The sensation of hard cock in his hand is as wonderful as it always is, with the added bonus of being able to take his time and squeeze just the head, or carefully feel along the shaft, or reach down slowly to roll Thorin’s balls in his palm. No interruption, no artifice, all that was here was Thorin and what Bilbo could do to him and Thorin’s reaction to it. Bilbo pushed up to lean against his elbow and watched as he crept his hand up to Thorin’s nipples and slowly pinched one, not painfully. Thorin’s cock pulsed gently at that, and Bilbo did it once more before going back down to it again. 

Thorin still slept, though as Bilbo touched him his breath hitched and once he mumbled something indecipherable in Khuzdul. Bilbo sat up fully, unable to resist, and untied his sleeping pants desperately, grunting a low, quiet noise of relief as the pressure was removed. He fisted his cock and pumped himself, drunk on the way Thorin was responding, even asleep, that he could do this, that Thorin must trust him this much. 

He recalled his whispered dirty-talk to Thorin the day before, and his mouth watered, and he used all his cunning to move Thorin onto his back without waking him. That done, he waited a short while, slowing his hand on himself patiently until Thorin’s breathing had evened out once more. He used both hands to ease Thorin’s smalls down enough for his cock to be pulled free, and he leaned over again to breathe in the scent of him. Still sleep-sweet, but with a bit of sweat and the musk Bilbo had come to expect, and he couldn’t help himself. 

He maneuvered Thorin’s cock to his mouth, keeping his lips slack and letting his tongue rest against the head. Then he moved his arm to where he could support his weight and tried gently pushing against the head of Thorin’s cock with his tongue, testing. Thorin definitely groaned in his sleep this time, and Bilbo watched fascinated as the muscle in his thighs twitched. The dwarf’s arm moved slightly, and Bilbo began to bob his head slickly up and down, trying to deliver friction with as little jostling as possible. Another moan floated down from his lover and a burst of precum smeared against his tongue, and Bilbo choked on his own answering noise. 

Then, he choked again, and it was because suddenly his mouth was flooded with Thorin’s seed, a gasp of pleasure coming from Thorin above him on the bed, and BIlbo swallowed as he desperately fisted himself. Only a moment later he was coming hard, the weight of the entire experience seeming to push it out of him, and he gasped, laying on Thorin now that it wasn’t important if he woke or not.

“Muh-ghivashel?” Thorin mumbled, woken by a hobbit flopping against his abdomen. “Are you--oh.” He’d apparently woken enough now to realize what had happened, Bilbo realized, and he tensed as he waited for his reaction.

“Mm,” Thorin rumbled, and shoved his blanket the rest of the way off to pull BIlbo up and cuddle him close to his chest. “That’s a good way to wake up, burglar.” Bilbo flushed but didn’t deny the nickname now of all times...he’d certainly stolen something this evening, hadn’t he? Instead, he attempted to burrow into Thorin’s chest, relief and uncertainty warring in his chest and making it difficult to breathe. Thorin had more or less caught him red handed and hadn’t complained, or insinuated he was strange, and Bilbo couldn’t deny he’d enjoyed himself immensely. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin said softly, burying his nose into his curls and nuzzling the hobbit. “I am well. It truly was a nice way to wake.” Bilbo was stiff a moment longer before he felt the tension begin to drain as he let a deep breath go. 

He nodded, murmuring “I love you,” as he relaxed into Thorin’s arms.

“You shall have to demonstrate this for me on Dwalin next time,” Thorin rumbled as he went back to sleep, and Bilbo would be lying if he said the potential in that thought didn’t keep him awake for quite some time.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr!
> 
> Liked this or my other fics? [](https://ko-fi.com/A2121AK)


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